


The Way / El Camino (Season 2)

by Loui2517



Category: MERLÍ - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22913404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loui2517/pseuds/Loui2517
Summary: I have sought the author Mereth’s kind permission to translate her Merli story into English. I have rewritten the endings of stories for many of my favourite films but I haven’t had the heart, or thought I could do justice, to write my own Merli ending from cannon. I have always wanted to try translating some other fascinating reads of authors who write in other languages and this is where the desire to do this translation has come from.I am by no means a Spanish expert. I have studied Portuguese and I see similarities in the two languages so I’m having a go so expect errors/overwriting.
Relationships: Bruno Bergeron/Pol Rubio
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [El camino (season 2)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22202203) by [Mereth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mereth/pseuds/Mereth). 



> Author's Message
> 
> We all know how Bruno and Pol's story ends, but to get there you have to walk a path first. This is that story and the changes that happened during that time.
> 
> "... after all, something had to arise at some point where there was nothing at all" - Jostein Gaarder  
> (Or a continuation of Merlí: Sapere Aude, because I needed to know how the story ends)
> 
> The story begins right where the season of Sapere Aude leaves off. It is a work in progress that I plan to try to update weekly. The story doesn’t have any proof reader so if you find any errors please don’t hesitate to let me know of any you may find. Thank you

Chapter 1: Before

Walking apart from the road does not mean making a mistake on the road.- Jostein Gaarder.

Bruno had taken the two bottles of whiskey from Rai's house pretty absent mindedly without really thinking about what he would do with them but the purpose was kind of obvious, drinking them.

Drowning his sorrows until he could forget Pol Rubio's face; his name and all the bullshit he had subjected him to. The most recent above all else because his last conversation had stung - a lot - but it had also given him enough clarity to know that he couldn't go on like this. That even Bruno Bergeron had a limit. That this situation was unsustainable and that his relationship with Pol would never progress past friendship. 

Bruno had friends and none looked at him and thought that Pol wanted to devour him all the time – just like those last months with Nicola. No, at least he could say he learned from his mistakes. He knew what it was like to have a relationship full of reproaches, infidelities and feeling more. He had told himself he was not going to go through it again and today, he had dangerously approached that line once more.

Sighing, Bruno set off for his grandmother's house. He could have gone to the beach to drink, but it seemed tremendously cliché and dramatic and he just thought sod it. The whole thing was bollocks, having gotten stuck in the rut of a situation taken straight out of a midday soap opera. Just trying to get past it was a constant struggle. Hell, if he had wanted to live in a drama, he would have enrolled on a dramatic arts course. No thank you, he already had enough of that living with the Calduch.

At least she would value the bottles he had brought, he thought with a bitter smile as he left them on the kitchen table and looked for a glass in the cupboard. He wasn’t going to drink both, he wasn’t so stupid that he wanted to end up in a coma or worse, end up in the hospital. The memory of his father's last hours still too fresh not to make him nauseous just thinking about being in one but the idea of drinking enough to crawl into bed and fall unconscious was a much better option than staring at the ceiling thinking about all the bullshit he had done that year for Pol.

\---

The noise of his bedroom blind being raised woke him, forcing him to bury his head in the pillow and then came the nausea and headache at that slight movement causing him to let out a growl of discomfort.

“Wow, from what I see and smell, you must have drank that whole bottle yourself,” said the Calduch.

Bruno turned his head towards her with a growl as he felt the mattress sink, opening one eye and blinking hard to get used to the blinding light.

“So good the party ended?” Carmina stared at her grandson, “Or was it so bad? Because I've seen the empty glass too, baby. The parties that end well do not end with one drinking alone at home.”

“ Yaya ...” - Bruno turned his head again.

“You’ve got a hangover,” Carmina got up from the bed, “Get up, take a shower and come to the kitchen. I'll give you something to eat and you can take something for the pain. You won’t get anything if you stay here.”

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” Bruno moaned.

“I could give you the other option and leave the vacuum cleaner on in front of your door,” She threatened in her deadpan tone.

Bruno turned to her and looked at her distastefully, “Is it that you don’t even know how it works? Is that why you have a maid?”

“Do you think I can’t learn how to plug it in in the next five minutes?” - His grandmother looked at him seriously with her arms crossed, “Do not challenge me boy.”

Bruno sighed with the knowledge that he was indeed defeated. It was impossible to change Calduch's mind when she was hell bent and it was obvious that resisting was only going to bring more pain.

“I'm coming,” He said as he got up, at least it meant he could get rid of the headache.

\--

A long shower later and feeling not quite human but at least cleaner, Bruno went to the kitchen where his grandmother had prepared some food and put a couple of pills on the table.

“There's no coffee?” He pointed out.

“Do you think your stomach can manage it?” 

Bruno shrugged. He didn’t know, but he didn’t dare risk it as he was already feeling like total crap. His grandmother seemed to take it as a cue because she turned around only to return in a couple of minutes with a cup of coffee with milk.

“Please yourself,” She said as she put the cup on the table with disapproval.

“Okay, Yaya, you made me get up," he said before biting the toast, “What do you want?” he added when she made no move to leave.

“It's 6 in the afternoon Bruno, anyone would think that I woke you up at dawn. And I want to know what the hell happened for you to drown your sorrows here. Although thanks for the whiskey. It is good and costs a fortune,” 

“I can imagine. I took it from Rai's house,” He looked down at his cup.

“Pol's rich friend?” Calduch stared at her grandson who still didn't look up from the cup, “Bruno, what happened with Pol?”

“Yaya ...” Bruno looked up, “I don't want to talk about it.”

“I already know you don't want to tell your grandmother your things.” Carmina sat down, leaning on the table, “But Bruno, you look like crap and I don't mean hungover,”

“You pointing that out doesn’t help any,”

“You are already feeling bad, how much harm can what I say really add? Or is it because I am your grandmother? If it’s necessary, I can call one of those nice friends of yours and they can come in my honour or how about a friend from Insti.”

“Carmina, leave it,” Bruno declined, “I don't want to talk to them.”

“Well then you have to talk to me, but you have to forget about him baby. Repression is a bad idea, you know that.”

“That sounds like something the Pope could have said,” Bruno sighed with a bitter grimace.

“Your father would have said it differently, but where do you think he learned it? In the faculty of philosophy?”

Bruno did not know what expression he had on his face, but he regretted it instantly because it caused Calduch to stop dead in her tracks and had her inspecting his face again.

“What happened with Pol because that face you’re pulling has nothing to do with conversation about your father,”

Surrendering to the fact that she was not going to leave him alone until he told her something, Bruno gave in.

“Pol has a crush on a friend of his who ignores him. I did listen to him, but he is not in love with me and all that came out yesterday at the party. Sincerely fuck you, I'm tired of hanging in there.”

“Are you sure this is the whole story? You don't sound like my grandson,”

“Is that the only thing you are going to tell me?” Bruno asked indignantly, getting up.

“Eh, eh,” Carmina hit him on the arm, forcing him to sit down again, “I'm not done. You're not the best story teller, but I understand and you do well to decide not to continue humiliating yourself but let me tell you something Bruno. I've seen how that guy looks at you and he saying he’s not in love with you is a lie.”

“Well, that's what he believes,” Bruno replied bitterly, although with the satisfaction of knowing that he wasn’t the only one who thought the same. It was complete rubbish to think that he didn’t know Pol Rubio very well after all these years.

“He'll realize, young man. Pol and you are destined to be together,”

“Pol doesn't believe in fate, Yaya” Bruno snorted, sipping his coffee.

“Well, that always ends badly, look at the Greek tragedies,”

“Enough now. We don't live in a play, Carmina Calduch,”

“One day you will learn,” said the Calduch, getting up, “That if the works succeed it is because people identify with them and we will not have vindictive gods, but people have not changed so much since the time of the Greeks. Are you not a historian? Do they teach you nothing in college?”

“And according to your works, what should I do?” Bruno asked with a grimace of disdain and curiosity. Whatever the answer, at least it was an option, a possible way to get out of the shit he was in.

“Lead your own life Bruno,” his grandmother stated firmly, “Destiny or not, you cannot stop living your life for anything or anyone. You have a lifetime ahead of you, live it and enjoy it. Destiny will take care of you and Pol meeting again. Barcelona is not that big.”


	2. Pause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note from the author:
> 
> The viewpoint of each chapter will switch between Pol and Bruno. I think it is clear but if it is confusing, tell me and I will add a note to the beginning of each chapter.

Chapter 2: Pause

Know Yourself – A phrase in the Temple of Apollo

Pol can say truthfully that he has no idea what Bruno has been up to since the party at Rai's house. He has consciously been avoiding Rai, needing to keep his distance to try to temper a feeling that he knows will never be reciprocated but with Bruno he wasn’t sure of the reason why he hadn’t seen him.  


It is true that Pol hadn’t made any move to contact him, partly still stung with the shit that mounted up at the party, but Bruno has not tried either. His only message in these months that have followed was a photo, a couple of days after the anniversary of Merlí's death, of the niche tombstone. The phrase that had occurred to him highlighted in gold on the gray stone. That picture was followed only by a brief message, which Pol did not know how to answer and preferred to ignore completely.

If he hadn’t met Angel in the summer, who let him in on Bruno’s whereabouts, he probably wouldn’t have even messaged him.

‘Angel told me that you’re in Rome. Are you flirting with Italians?’ He wrote without thinking.

‘He told me that you went to see him act,’ came a reply a few minutes later, making Pol sigh.

Bruno Bergeron always changing the topic before they could really get into anything. Not letting them carry on with the charade and instead choosing to stick to reality. It was in those moments that he acted more like his father, brutal in his sincerity and in the way he knew how to read his excuses. Before I could think of what to say, another message appeared.

‘And I didn't know I had to inform you about my life, Pol Rubio. Wanting to act like Merlí, does not make you my father,’

‘No, but we are friends, right?’

‘I guess so. We haven't been talking all summer mate so I can’t say for sure,’

‘Bruno, don't fuck with me,’ Pol began to notice how he was pissed off and even more so when the only answer he received was the shrugging emoji.

‘My friends know where I am. Have you bothered to ask about my life? How I’m doing? I don’t know you prick, it seems to me that you've made it very clear,’

‘When are you going to stop calling me a prick?’ Pol asked, ignoring the rest of the sentence, knowing that Bruno was right.

‘When you stop being one,’ was his overwhelming response, followed by the offer of a small olive branch, because damn Bruno Bergeron could never do it any other way, ‘I'll be back tomorrow. You can let me know if you want to meet up.’

At the end of summer they managed to square away a day a week before the course began, on the same beach where, a year ago, they had celebrated their arrival into the world of university. Only this time, instead of beer and cherries, he was alone, sitting on the sand looking at the sea and waiting for a late Bruno.

‘Sorry I’m late mate. I told Gina that I would lend a hand with Mina and time got away from me,” Bruno dropped down by his side, leaving more than two arm’s lengths between them, “How was your summer?”

“I didn't know you liked babysitting,” Pol replied looking at him. Bruno looked a little more tanned, and with a fuller beard, but those seemed to be the only differences since he had last seen him. Well, that and that he was sat further away from him than he had ever been before.

“I don’t really," Bruno shrugged, looking at him, “But she is my sister and I want to spend time with her. I guess when she gets older it will be more fun than changing diapers.”

His response was followed by a small silence, not uncomfortable, but if expectant for some reason Pol did not quite understand. In the end, Bruno broke it with a sigh looking sideways at the sea.

“What did you want to say?” he said turning his head to look at him.

“Say what?” Pol looked confused. He had no idea what Bruno was referring to and it was not a situation he liked or to which he was generally accustomed.

“I don’t know, mate,” Bruno sighed, leaning back on his hands and looking at him for a long time, as if evaluating him, “You asked me to meet you here. Did something happen with you and Rai? With Minerva?”

“Fuck, Bruno I wanted to meet up with you to catch up on your life,” replied Pol, snorting angrily, “Rai hasn't even crossed my mind. Why are you bringing Rai into this? That shit again?”

Pol frowned at the thought of the last conversation that they had had and was almost certain that Bruno too had also been transported back to that night, as he grimaced before sighing and lying on the sand, watching the sea.

“Because most of our conversations over the last year have been about your friends, especially Minerva, or about how much you want Rai and the occasional times he has shown interest in you,” Bruno retorted, continuing with a hint of bitterness in his voice, ‘I suppose we’ve also spoken about how much you miss Merlí. What do you expect me to think?’

"Well, I've missed you!" Pol crossed his arms defensively, feeling vulnerable and angry at the same time. “Okay yes I've been a huge ass, especially with what I said to you at the party about Merlí but we are friends. I called you because I wanted to see you.”

Bruno sat down, looking at him scowling.

“Yes, we’ve established that now. You’ve done a lot to convince me what with all the sighing and rubbing your face. Look Pol, I do not want to talk about what you said about my father. We haven’t spoken since the day of the party and now, suddenly, two days after returning to class you remember to think about me. You should be able to understand that I am shocked,”

The brunette was silent looking at him for a second before turning his gaze to the sea and Pol watched him without knowing what to do. He wasn’t sure what to do with this Bruno who didn’t follow the same routine they had always taken: one pulling, usually provoking Bruno, and another - usually him - stopping or letting go according to the moment.

“You're right,” he said finally, making Bruno turn in surprise, “I made it awful this summer, but you also hurt me at the party. I was worse for mentioning your father,” Pol continued before Bruno could protest.

"I don't deny it." Bruno shrugged, looking serious. "And you made yourself very clear," 

“What if I hadn't got in touch?” Pol asked curiously, smiling in spite of himself. It was all too dramatic. Bruno’s grandmother had begun influencing them.

"Well, I don't know, mate," Bruno looked at him thoughtfully, as if the question were more theoretical than anything else or as if, in the end he had thrown in the towel and gave a response with little thought, “I guess we would have just lived our own lives. Have you seen the other peripatetics again? Not everyone keeps in touch with their friends from insti when they finish. I guess it's normal.”

Pol was left without knowing what to give as an answer, making Bruno’s lips move into a faint smile.

“Ah mate, let’s just leave it,” he replied, standing up and taking off his shirt, “There is no beer or cherries but we can have a swim.”

Without waiting for an answer, Bruno took off his clothes and headed for the shore, leaving Pol behind undressing mechanically, still not that clear about everything that had happened that night.


	3. Friends and Colleagues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a beast of a chapter. Struggled with some of it. Think some might have ended up getting the chop but I think the gist is there. 
> 
> Excited to see their relationship develop.

Chapter 3: Friends and Colleagues

True friendship can only exist between equals- Plato

"We should make this a tradition, huh," Bruno smiled, putting a piece of cake in his mouth. Fuck, I think it's even better than last year.

“I have honed the recipe,” Angel smiled, swelling like a turkey.

"You bought it," Sara interrupted, pointing at him with the spoon. Bruno had seen the bag.

“Ok, yes, but with work and everything else I didn’t have time and it's very hot to turn on the oven, fuck,” Angel replied, causing his friends to erupt with laughter.

“In any case,” Bruno continued with laughter, “we should make it tradition. Cake for the first week of class but speaking of class, am I already dead or are we going to die in Numismatics?”

"We're going to die," Angel replied, dropping dramatically on the table and turning Bruno’s face into a wry smile. Sometimes he was worse than his grandmother. “Speaking of dying, did you take on the archaeology work?”

Bruno growled, nodding as he ate cake and Sara sighed.

“It’s not going well? I don’t want us to have to redo the work,” the brunette turned to look at her friend, “Can you leave it to us Bruno?”

‘If you give me the notes for Geography and History from February,” He negotiated, “I’ve still got to do June’s and July’s.’

“Mate, you raised your grade this semester. Didn't you pass another two exams in July? "Angel asked. It hadn’t helped him.

Bruno put another bite of cake into his mouth so he wouldn't have to answer. He knew he could not complain about the end result of the course and the catastrophe that the June exams had been. The stress, the subjects he had not liked and, why not admit it, everything that happened with damn Pol, had meant that studying that last month would not have paid off. Luckily, his stubbornness -and making changes-, had made July allow him not to have the feeling that taking this course had completely turned to shit. He would not have forgiven himself.

At that moment his cell phone chimed and, when he looked down he saw that it was a WhatsApp message from Pol. Obviously it couldn’t have been from any other person, fate just wouldn’t let that happen.

Sighing, Bruno unlocked his phone and looked at what the blond had sent him. From that day on the beach things had become weird between them. Not tense, but cautious, as if sometimes Pol was not sure how to treat him even if he tried to hide it, but sometimes he forgot about his reluctance and everything went back to what it was before starting university. Bruno would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was equally fascinated and frustrated with the situation. Fascinated because suddenly it was as if something had changed between them and Pol was watching, trying to make sense of what had happened and to establish why and if his senses were deceiving him or not. Frustrated because, in spite of himself, he still wanted to make out with - and not stop at kissing - the asshole Pol Rubio and it was difficult enough not to fall back into the dynamics of shit that they had developed so that now the prick was starting to treat him differently.

“Who was it?” Sara asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Pol," he said, putting his phone away, “Asking if I can do him a favor and get him a book from the library,”

“And what’s going on with him?” Angel asked, leaning forward, “When I last saw him, he hadn't been in touch with you for months.”

Bruno shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. Not that he knew what to say, but even if he had the words, he wouldn't have said anything. He didn't know where the reluctance to talk about Pol came from, he just knew he was tired of his whole world seeming to revolve around him. Even the parts that didn't include him at all.

"There’s nothing much to tell," he sighed, checking the time on his cell phone. “Come on, Prehistory is about to start and I need to get a coffee before we go in.”

“You are not going to get out of telling us so easily,” Angel replied, getting up. “Something has to have happened between you two to cause you not to talk to each other all summer and now you’re suddenly doing favours.”

Bruno rolled his eyes at Angel's smile.

"No, Angel, we haven’t done anything," Bruno replied tiredly as he picked up his backpack. He didn’t need to elaborate as they both knew what Angel had been thinking. Really, not everything is fixed by fucking, no matter how much you believe it.

In fact, one of the lessons Bruno had learned in the last year is that fucking with Pol had only made things worse and had been a terrible idea. What a whore because the bastard fucked very well.

“Well, it would help to resolve that sexual tension that you have,” Angel continued, ignoring the push that Sara gave him while they were on their way to the cafeteria.

"Angel," Sara muttered, looking from one of her friends to the other, “Leave it.”

Bruno gave a grateful half smile, which Sara acknowledged before Angel sighed, looking at them.

“But I want to know.” Angel said, changing to the tone of a whining little boy.

Bruno widened his smile at the tone. Angel knew it was a lost cause to pursue it. Bruno put an arm around Sara's shoulders - squeezing her for a moment as a thank you and earning a wink in response - before hitting Angel with his free hand.

“You will hold onto that desire,” Bruno smiled mockingly, “And now we have to go for coffee otherwise we’ll never get to class.”

***

The rest of the week went by without anything interesting happening, the pace typical of a new university course. On the one hand, Bruno felt more confident, the system and the level of demand were things he had become accustomed to and was able to face. But on the other he continued to fear whether he had been wrong in choosing to study History. Although some classes could be interesting, he often wondered whether it was worth it and if he could actually survive university.

Sighing over his notes, Bruno glanced at the time. He had been trying to plan the semester all afternoon and he knew that to keep going over it would not help. The brunette’s eyes looked around his room until they landed on the book that Pol had asked for. The truth is that he hadn't really wanted to do him a favour - a part of him even assessing how much he had spent the past year trying to make his friend's life easier - but he had to go through the library anyway, so it had been rude not to take it. What he had not been willing to do, and he knew that he would have done the previous year, was to go to the Faculty of Philosophy to bring him the book. He wanted him to come for the book.

But now he was in the position of needing a distraction, something that made him stop thinking for a moment in a future he had no knowledge or control of, and inertia and custom, inevitably led him to think of Pol as the solution to it. As if what united him to the blond was some kind of invisible but inescapable force. Like gravity, he couldn't see it but it was there keeping him on the ground, and sometimes, if he wasn’t careful, it could make him fall down. Yes, that's how his relationship with Pol Rubio had been so far and the truth is that Bruno was very tired of giving into it, but he didn't feel like escaping from it. That would have been too easy. Sighing, the brunette got up, if Pol was like gravity, perhaps he would have to do like the dancers he had admired since he was a child: find a way not to fall to the ground even whilst doing the most complex pirouettes. And that would not be achieved by hiding or ignoring him but by not doing the job alone. After all, the dance — as in gravity — didn’t just involve one.

(Much later Bruno would remember this moment as the point when he made the decision to change the steps of their familiar dance without giving up everything as the catalyst that gave him the goal, but also the clarity of knowing what he did and didn’t want and what he found acceptable.

Pol will smile with fascination on the day he hears about it, almost as much as Bruno will when his boyfriend admits that for him, it began before that moment, but he just hadn't been able to see it.)

“Yaya,” he said, leaving the room with Pol's book and his sports bag, “I'm going to the pool.”

His grandmother looked at him from the couch where she was reading a new script.

“Baby, it's not that I'm an expert in swimming pools, but I swear that reading’s not involved so if you need a book to swim, you are doing it wrong.”

"Yaya," Bruno looked at her, rolling his eyes, “The book is for Pol, I’m going near his workplace,”

Carmina set the script on the arm of the chair and stood up, approaching her grandson.

“So you fixed it? The anger you had with him and all that unrequited love?”

“I guess it depends on who you ask,” he shrugged, making a face and causing the Calduch to raise her eyebrows, “We're friends and that's it, Yaya. I will be back in a couple of hours.”

“At the moment you are friends, Bruno,” she said threateningly, “I have seen you together and I know what I am talking about. Do not give into him early but what can you do when young people think they know everything.”

“Yaya ...”Bruno sighed. He couldn’t leave now if he started a fight with her, “Really, there's nothing else.”

His grandmother looked at him skeptically, making Bruno a little angry, although he was aware that, ironically, history was not on his side.

“Go, you'll be late,” Calduch said finally, making a gesture with her hands as if Bruno were a butler who hovered, “Or do those places not close?”

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Bruno decided to leave it there.

“Goodbye Yaya,” he said before closing the door while he picked up his cell phone, “Now let's see if with this I do not end up regretting it.”

**

The garage where Pol worked was, more or less, halfway between Bruno's grandmother's house and the sports center where he sometimes went swimming. Not on the route that he would normally take, but close enough that it would not be a big inconvenience to make a detour for a moment.

He met his friend at his workstation, absorbed in his notes. Bruno couldn't help his small wry smile. The Pol he met during high school only studied when he had nothing else to do, but of course, philosophy had always been the exception.

“Eh, nerd,” Bruno greeted him, causing Pol to lift his head up, “It’s Friday, shouldn’t you be out partying or something?”

“Mate,” Pol moved closer and shook his hand to greet him, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve brought you your book,” Bruno said taking it out of his sports bag, “I knew you were still here and I was passing anyway.”

“What, you go to the gym?” Pol looked at his holdall bag before smiling at him with his typical cocky expression, “Well, it's not a boring Friday afternoon for you,”

Bruno shrugged, placing the bag on his shoulder.

“I’m going to the pool. I was working like you and I needed a break,” Bruno gave him a smile, “The exciting world of university, mate. Nobody told us that it would be dying, buried in notes and working from the very first second,”

Pol let out a laugh, throwing his head back.

“What I said wasn’t that funny,” Bruno shook his head, “It tells me that the one who needs a break and a spot of partying is you.”

“Well, in fact tomorrow I am invited to one at Minerva's house. You can come if you want,” Pol offered with his eternal rogue smile that vanished when the brunette shook his head.

“I'm sorry, we’re going to celebrate the start of the course after class tomorrow,” Bruno shrugged, but without hiding how he felt. He wasn’t going to fall back into that trap no matter how tempting it was. Although he could not help teasing him. Bruno was his father's son and grandmother's grandson, and sometimes a bit of evil was inevitable. “But then again I might come, I heard she has a very nice roommate,”

Pol snorted, grimacing before attempting a neutral expression.

"What a pity you can’t make it, mate," said the blond before looking sideways at the clock on the wall, “Hey thanks for the book.”

Bruno took it as his cue to leave.

“You're welcome, man. Well prick, I better go,” he said, slapping him on the shoulder and earning another grimace from his friend.

“Bye Bruno.”


	4. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pol makes an effort to spend time with Bruno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> I just want to say that I have never been in the University of Barcelona’s History faculty, but considering that the buildings that are used for filming Sapere Aude are also not the true faculties of Philosophy and History I think we can ignore it ;). What are real are the subjects that I mention although I have never studied them so don’t expect a lot of detail.

Chapter 4: Reflection

The little I have learned is worthless, compared to what I ignore and I do not despair in learning - Descartes

Pol stared at the mobile lock screen while playing with it. He had been thinking about something for a while, but not focusing on it too much. Like a thud in the back of his brain, it was there all the time but it only became clear when he paid attention to it.

That something - better said, that someone - was Bruno and the relationship they had lately was so strange. It was easy not to think about it every day, what with the whirlwind of classes and work and to be assaulted from time to time with the certainty that he would never have anything with Rai but the fucking slut kept teasing him, although over time it had become easier to ignore. Everything seemed as usual, Bruno a WhatsApp away who usually answered quickly depending on whether he was in class or how busy he was as he had always done.

But when he stopped, when Pol finally finished and he was alone without major distractions, the certainty that everything was not as usual was evident. Starting with the fact that he had not seen his long standing best friend for more than a month. Not that Bruno was avoiding him: it had been a mixture of incompatible schedules - a premiere of Bruno's grandmother’s play the day he already had other plans; the parties of Philosophy coinciding with those of History- and some bad luck- Bruno being sick the day Pol had to go to return the book to the library of the History department-, but the fact was that he had not seen him since the day that Bruno had stopped by his work to give him the book. Pol knew that he could have gone to his house and that Calduch would not have cared, or had told Bruno to come to his, but the mere idea was pulling him back. As if somehow nonverbal, both of them had decided that at the moment, there were lines that they didn't want - or couldn't -, cross and family homes were one of them.

Pol hadn’t overlooked the fact that Bruno was no longer visiting his faculty. His and Bruno’s schedules were much trickier to align. He wasn’t sure if last year’s schedules had been just as complicated or if Bruno had made an effort to see him.

(Pol had the suspicion that it was probably a mixture of the two and likely that Bruno’s effort had been great.)

Sighing, the blond picked up his cell phone and unlocked it. Overthinking things was not going to solve anything and perhaps, it was time for him to take the next step for once, to take a risk, as Merlí had said one day.

**  
The faculty of History was a maze. Not only because the building of the 60s was more modern - although not better taken care of. Public education had very little budget for maintenance despite the extortionate prices charged to students. The reason for the place feeling so foreign was because the layout was unlike his own faculty, with the rooms being laid out in a completely strange way without any logic. Obviously, he had only gone a couple of times and never farther than the library so he struggled to orientate himself, but in a way the place reminded him of his first day at the university. He just hoped to have better luck and not end up in the wrong classroom.

Luckily, one of the janitors was able to guide him to where he wanted to go and, without much effort, he arrived at the classroom door of the subject he was looking for. It would be relatively easy to get Bruno out of his last class of the day: a couple of comments about his own classes and some classic Pol enough for the brunette to ditch what plans he had at the last minute. The noise inside the classroom indicated that the class must have ended and he leaned against the opposite wall in a visible place to wait for everyone to leave. The door soon opened and the faces of exhaustion on all of the students greeted him, which wasn’t a surprise as Bruno always complained about how boring the subject was. His friend soon left, looking tired, accompanied by Angel and Sara who did not seem to be in a better state. It was the latter who first saw Pol, giving a start of surprise and getting Bruno to look in his direction. Pol could not help but smile when he saw Bruno's eyebrows rise in surprise and the look of his half skeptical face.

“Pol Rubio honoring us with his presence,” said Bruno approaching him. Fuck there were times that he could not deny that he was the son of Merlí, “Why??”

“I had to come here for books and I took the opportunity to see that friend who never does his hair.”

Bruno shrugged without giving an excuse and Pol decided to overtake Sara and Angel.

“What class was that?” He asked looking at the three, “You have worse faces than we did last year in Logic and that is saying something.”

“Epigraphy and Numismatics,” Angel replied as if that were enough answer. Pol supposed it could be. “I'm as if a truck had run over me several times.”

“I need to get rid of this headache,” Sara sighed rubbing her temples, “I'm going home now, as I won't be able to study anything more. Are you coming?”

Pol watched as Bruno considered his options for a couple of seconds before shaking his head.

“Nah, since he has come to meet me, I'm going to have a drink with him,” he laughed, “We must reward good deeds. I also need a couple of books too.”

Pol said nothing as Bruno said goodbye and made plans for the weekend with his friends, apart from saying goodbye when they finally left.

“What a behaviorist on your part.”

“Uh?” Bruno looked confused, blinking. The truth is that the brunette looked like he was exhausted.

“To reward me for good behavior,” Pol continued seeing that Bruno still wasn’t following him. “Yes man, like Pavlov's dog for example. My turning up here has triggered a response from you.”

“Surely, but right now I think I can’t even remember my own name,” Bruno sighed, starting to walk. “But apart from that you know that philosophy has never been exactly my thing. In the blacksmith's house, stick knife and stuff ...”

“You were not as good as me, there’s a lot to remember,” Pol smiled with a little point of pride. The remains of the one he felt that day in high school when he discovered that there could be a class he liked and was good at, “but you were not bad either, mate. You know much more than you think.”

Bruno responded with a grunt, so Pol decided to change the subject.

“Hey, Angel answered me before, but it meant nothing to me. What were you guys studying in there to result in the long faces?”

“Epigraphy,” Bruno sighed and tried again with other words, “Inscriptions on graves. Epigraphy and Numismatics is the study of graves and coins,”

Pol whistled.

“Damn, sounds like a pain in the ass,” He said in a voice mixed with admiration and commiseration, “It makes sense that you normally look half dead. By the way, where are we going?”

“To the cafeteria for something to eat,” said Bruno, standing in the middle of a hallway to look at him. “I need to eat something before starting to study and thought you could come with me or do you prefer to go get books? I don't know how busy you are.”

“Are you going to study here? If that’s the case we can go to the library later. I want to settle in one corner of the library and not have to move around when I’m studying. I can get the books out without having to cart them around.”

Pol felt a bit of discomfort when he saw Bruno's dumbfounded face for the second time in a few minutes. Definitely, he had not behaved very well with his friend if something as simple as staying with him in the library made him look at him as if antennas were sticking out of his head. The brunette blinked once before returning to his usual calm expression.

“Well, in that case we will need food for strength,” he replied with a shrug, as if it were nothing and Pol did not just see his surprise and bewilderment, “But I’m only going to eat with you. If we go for a drink it will make me sleepy and I don’t want to be responsible for you after you’ve had a few drinks.”

“I don’t want to get drunk when I want to study,” said Pol, “But I need help getting around this faculty, I can’t find anything.”

Bruno laughed, shaking his head, but continued on his way to the cafeteria. Pol following him and pondering when, before that day, he had done something as simple as going to where Bruno was and not the other way around. When he arrived at the cafeteria he had no thoughts of anything that had come after Merlí's funeral except the inscription of his tombstone and the day Bruno called him a colleague in front of his friends but It didn’t take much for him to know that if he looked back at the way he had treated Bruno there would be an infinity of negative things he had said and done. Pol felt a prick of shame but repressed it when his friend looked at him, asking him what he wanted to eat. Now was not the time to reflect, but that time would come.


End file.
